


Relapse

by fuzipenguin



Series: Down the Rabbit Hole [5]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Delusions, Gen, Hallucinations, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, Mental Institutions, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 23:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12264726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Sunday doesn't much care with Sidney does, but even he can tell that something isn't right about Sidney today





	Relapse

                Sunday liked to pride himself on being on time. Early even. Not that there was a lot here to be on time for.

                In contrast, Sunday noticed that Sid was always late. He usually skidded into his seat for group at least five minutes after the counselor had begun and was always picked last for the team sports because he was literally the last person available.

                So when Sunday walked into the cafeteria and saw Sid sitting at Sunday’s table, he paused to blink in surprise at the other kid for a second. Then Sunday shrugged. Maybe it was some new program Dr Pax had started.

                Sunday went and picked up his tray and then sat, across from Sidney and one chair down. And it wasn’t that he was sitting _with_ Sid. Sunday was just sitting at his own table, where Sidney happened to be, thank you very much.

                After about five minutes, Sunday realized Sidney hadn’t moved once since Sunday had arrived. He hadn’t said hello, nor was he eating. He just cradled his head in his hands, strands of blonde hair falling over his fingers in a messy tangle. A full plate of food and cup of milk sat on his tray, all untouched.

                “Are you going to eat that?” Sunday asked, gesturing towards Sidney’s food. While Sid was a picky eater, he usually managed to consume at least a little at each meal. It was odd that he hadn’t taken even a bite, but Sunday wasn’t one to let food go to waste.

                Sidney silently pushed the tray towards Sunday in open invitation, one which Sunday took.

                “What’s wrong with you?” Sunday finally asked around a spoonful of runny scrambled eggs.

                “Frag off, glitch,” Sid muttered wearily, the fingers in his hair tightening. “… it’s just a processor ache.”

                Sunday paused with his next forkful halfway to his mouth. He knew Sid was here partly for hallucinations. In the week they had known one another, Sunday had heard him interject odd phrases into his speech, words that while were part of the human language, just didn’t seem right. It had never seemed to harm anyone, including Sidney, nor was Sunday a snitch.

                No matter how irritating he found the other kid.

                “Why don’t you go to Ratched and get something for it?” Sunday ventured carefully, the hairs on the back of his arm raising. Sidney felt… off.

                “And have him take me off duty? Again?” Sid said disdainfully. “No, thank you. I’m fine. You try getting stomped on by a combiner and not have a few lingering aches afterwards.”

                What the hell was a combiner?

                Sunday swallowed and leaned to the side away from Sidney. “Uh huh.”

                Just when he was considering slipping another seat down, Sid’s head shot up. Sunday flinched, heart hammering at the sudden movement.

                “Did you hear something?” Sidney demanded, staring at something over Sunday’s shoulder.

                “Nooo?” Sunday replied. He only heard the sounds from the kitchen workers and the few other occupants of the cafeteria. At this early hour, it was only the two of them plus five other people eating.

                “I could have sworn I heard something in that grate,” Sid whispered, slowly pushing himself to his feet. Sunday followed the other kid’s line of sight to see an innocuous looking heating vent in the wall near the floor just behind their table. “You think Ravage snuck in?”

                “Uh… I don’t know who Ravage is, but I could barely get two hands in that vent if I tried,” Sunday replied, eyeballing it. “Why don’t you sit down?”

                It wasn’t snitching if someone was honestly crazed, right? As Sunday sought out the orderly standing monitoring the room, Sunday rationalized it to himself: Sidney didn’t look right. His eyes were sunken, his hair limp and grungy. And there was a slight tremble to his hand as he pointed at the grate again.

                “No, there’s something there!” Sid exclaimed.

                Loudly.

                Sunday didn’t have to have a make a silent plea to the orderly. He heard Sidney’s shout and started on over on his own.

                “Don’t you see it, Sunny?” Sidney demanded, turning to Sunday. Sunday blinked up at him, nonplussed. “It’s gotta be Ravage!”

                “I, uh…”

                “Sidney! What are you going on about?” Cliff, the orderly called out.

                “Fine! I’ll take care of it myself!” Sideswipe exclaimed, throwing up his hands in exasperation when Sunday didn’t move. “Maybe then everyone’ll believe me that I’m alright.”

                He yanked his former tray away from Sunday, upending it so that the plate and cup went flying. Sunday ducked the spray of milk and rose to his feet as well, reaching out to Sidney.

                “Hey, come on, stop it, there’s nothing there, all right? You’re gonna get drugged,” Sunday warned as the rest of the room stopped what they were doing and stared.

                Sidney didn’t reply. Instead, he took the tray in two hands, raised it up, and then bent the edges inwards. The muscles in his arms strained for several seconds before Sunday heard an ominous crack and the tray broke into two, ragged halves.

                Sunday gawked at the other kid, astonished. Sidney was half Sunday’s size! How did he manage to do that?!

                “Sidney!! Put it down!” Cliff yelled, breaking into a run towards them. Sunday retreated a step, now concerned. Sidney had fashioned himself a weapon and despite not ever having seen him be aggressive before, Sunday’d only known him for a few days.

                “I’ve got it!” Sideswipe called back dismissively, eyes fixed on the vent. He resolutely took two steps forward, tray halves raised like knives in his hand. Sunday felt a cold chill run through him at the sight of Sidney grinning hungrily at whatever it was his mind was telling him was in front of him.

                “Gotcha!” Cliff announced triumphantly, practically barreling into Sidney from behind. Cliff trapped Sidney’s arms against his sides in a bear hug, and Sidney went berserk.

                Legs flailing, he began screaming, half in English, half in words Sunday could barely comprehend. He struggled so mightily that Cliff lost control of him more than once, although he managed to wrest away one half of the tray, flinging it on the table.

                “Let me go! Let me go!” Sidney yelled, grappling with Cliff, this time face to face. A moment later, he reared back and then smashed his forehead against Cliff’s nose, making the orderly flinch back, blood dripping down his face. He released Sidney momentarily to prod at his nose before looking up with a glare.

                “That… is… _it_ ,” Cliff growled, leaping forward once more. They collided, Sidney halfway turned as he still attempted to get to the grate. Sidney slipped in the puddle of milk just in front of the table and crashed down on top of it, Cliff following him down.

                “Hold… still…” Cliff panted, rising up enough to slam himself back down. Sunday didn’t know if it was to stun Sidney, but he did hear Sidney yelp as if in pain. Moments later, Sunday saw a trickle of blood emerge from under Sidney’s side. As Cliff’s body was cattycornered to Sid’s, with Cliff’s face on the opposite side of Sid’s body, Sunday didn’t think that the blood came from the orderly.

                “Hey, let him up,” Sunday instructed, beginning to come around the side of the table.

                “You stay right there!” another voice called out and Holden, the other on duty orderly for the morning came running in.

                Sunday reflexively took a step back at the large man’s approach. Then he winced when Holden added his weight to the pile and the puddle of blood grew larger.

                “You’re hurting him,” Sunday announced, raising his voice to be heard over the muttered curses and grunts. Sidney had largely fallen silent, except for a thin whine which came and went. He was still wriggling about, even with the weight of the two other men on him.

                Sunday strode forward and yanked on Holden’s top sleeve. “Hey, I said you’re hurting him! He’s bleeding!”

                “That’s my blood!” Cliff exclaimed, grunting in pain when one of Sidney’s feet lashed out and caught Cliff in the side of the knee. “He’s fine. Back away!’

                Sidney yelped again and Sunday felt the red creep in around the edges of his vision. “It’s not,” he protested, fingers slowly curling into fists. “It’s underneath him. He landed on something.”

                “He said back off!” Holden yelled, pushing himself up and reaching for Sunday.

                Sunday reacted instinctively, hauling back and punching Holden in the throat. Holden’s eyes bulged and his hands automatically flew up to wrap around his neck. He coughed, the sound painful and hacking, but Sunday knew he hadn’t hit hard enough to collapse the other man’s trachea; he’d used just enough force to make it hurt.

                Sidney was squirming even more now that there was less weight holding him down. Yet each time he did, he ended up whimpering and yelping. And that just wouldn’t do.

                “Hold still, you idiot!” Sunday thundered. As Sidney abruptly went limp, Sunday reached out and grabbed a fistful of Cliff’s hair and shirt and yanked him upwards. Slipping a bit in the same puddle which had brought Sidney down, Sunday only managed to toss Cliff a few feet away, but it was enough to reach Sidney.

                “Hey, it’s just me. Sit up… carefully,” Sunday instructed, hands gentling Sidney’s slide down to the bench of the cafeteria table. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” he asked, voice pitched low.

                Sunday hissed when he saw a broken piece of the tray sticking out from Sidney’s side. It was about as wide as a finger, but seemed buried pretty deeply, judging by the fresh spill of blood staining Sidney’s shirt.

                “I could have done it. I could have done it, Sunny,” Sid mumbled, staring up at Sunday. Fresh tears streaked the other boy’s face and his lower lip trembled as he reached up to grab Sunday’s forearms. Sid didn’t seem to be much aware of the impromptu stab wound.

                Sunday sighed, doing his best to ignore the funny little lurch his heart did at the sight of Sidney looking so pitiful. “Yeah, I know you could have. But it was already being taken care of. That’s a huge ventilation system… we needed someone else in place to make sure he didn’t escape,” he said, desperately trying to remember every action movie he had ever seen.

                Sidney’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Hey… why do ‘jumper and Ironhide look so angry?” he asked, leaning to the side to look around Sunday. “Did Ravage get away?”

                Sunday glanced over his shoulder to see both Cliff and Holden getting to their feet, expressions promising mayhem.

                “Yes, he got away,” Sunday said softly. He gently pried off Sidney’s hands and turned around to face the orderlies, blocking their view of Sid.

                “Leave him alone… he’s hurt. He needs to go to the nurses’ station,” Sunday barked, fists forming once more.

                “Serves the bastard right,” Cliff stated, wiping the back of one hand across his bloody mouth.

                “Fuck you!” Sunday spat immediately, entire body tensing in preparation of a fight. They could both come at him. He didn’t care. They weren’t going to hurt Sidney any more. “He wasn’t gonna hurt nobody!”

                “That is enough!”

                A loud, booming voice spoke up from behind the orderlies, and everyone, Sunday included, automatically shrunk in on themselves. Behind him, Sidney whimpered.

                “What is going on here?” Dr Pax demanded, striding across the room. He bypassed the orderlies and motioned for Sunday to step aside.

                Sunday wavered in place. Pax was a doctor. Sidney needed a doctor. But…

                “I have to see him, son,” Dr Pax said kindly, lowering his voice from the bone shaking roar he had originally used. “May I?”

                After another moment of hesitation, Sunday moved, but he didn’t go far. He stayed right by Sidney’s good side, just in case.

                “Oh, Sid, what did you do to yourself?” Dr Pax asked after spying the piece of plastic stuck in Sidney. Sunday found his lips quirking upwards in amusement. Had he had that same note of fond exasperation in his voice when he had asked that very same question?

                “Sunny said Ravage got away?” Sidney murmured, eyes out of focus as he watched Dr Pax probe his side. “I’m sorry, Prime, did I mess it up?”

                “No, Sid, you didn’t mess anything up,” Dr Pax said soothingly. “But I do think a visit to the nurses station is in order so we can get you patched up. Do you think you can walk?”

                Sidney nodded and glacially pushed himself to his feet. When he straightened, he gasped and clutched his side, wobbling in place. Sunday immediately plastered himself against Sidney’s side, snaking an arm around him to grasp his opposite hip.

                “I’ve got him,” Sunday announced, glaring at Dr Pax when he reached out a steadying hand. Pax raised an eyebrow at him, but nodded.

                “Off you go then. I’ll be right behind you.”

                Sunday gently tugged on Sidney to get him moving and they began shuffling towards the exit. Out of the corner of his eye, Sunday watched Dr Pax turn Cliff’s face to the left and right, examining the probable broken nose.

                “Sunny, where are we going?” Sidney asked wearily. The side of his head pressed against Sunday’s and he felt Sidney lean into him a fraction more.

                “We’re going to go see Ratched,” Sunstreaker replied. Then as an afterthought, “…and stop calling me that.”

                “Think he could give me something for recharge?” Sidney asked, voice slurring a little. “I had the worst memory purges last shift and I barely got any recharge…  I kept being told I was a human and I didn’t have a brother.”

                “You _are_ human, Sidney,” Sunday said, sighing a little. Sunday didn’t have a psych degree but it sure sounded like Sidney was slipping down the rabbit hole.

                “Are you sure? I mean… I could live with that. But not you. I couldn’t live without you.”

                Sunday jerked backwards, Sidney making a pained noise as their opposing motions pulled on his wound. Barely noticing, Sunday turned his head to stare at the kid at his side.

                “What do you mean?” Sunday demanded.

                Sidney smiled loopily. “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean?’? Silly twin, trying to confuse me,” he scolded, shuffling back a step so he could lean in and press his forehead against Sunday’s. “So set me straight – are we human or not? Because I can plainly see you’re right here.”

                As Sunday stared into Sidney’s eyes, a blue to mirror his own, he felt something like a chill creep down his back. Twins? Why would Sidney have delusions that he and Sunday were brothers? Much less twins? They’d only known each other for days and it wasn’t as if they were close.

                Although if Sunday were to be honest with himself, he was acting pretty protective over Sid at the moment.

                “Something wrong, gentlemen?”

                Dr Pax’s voice behind them made Sunday jerk away from Sidney. He flushed under Dr Pax’s blank stare and shook his head.

                “No. No, just giving him a break,” Sunday reported and gently pulled on Sidney to get him going again.

                Sidney and he weren’t brothers. They barely knew each other. Sidney was delusional and Dr Pax and his team would have Sidney patched up both mentally and physically in no time. And then they could go back to their status quo of Sidney pestering Sunday and Sunday doing his best to ignore him.

 

~ End 


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